Sunrise, Sunset
by GirHugs
Summary: Slash. A sunset is not just a sunrise in reverse...cause if it was, then he'd have his lover back in his arms. (Warning: Death fic)


**Disclaimer: Avengers owned by Marvel.**

* * *

It's Clint that finds him, up on the roof, alone save the pile of empty beer bottles scattered around him. They didn't work; he's still all too aware of the world around him.

Clint settles down beside him but doesn't say a word. What is there to say really? Words won't offer any comfort and they certainly won't bring _him_ back.

They've fought aliens, Doombots, freaky science organizations with advanced weaponry, a God! They've fought all of those things and won. _Survived_. And yet…one small, blue sedan drifting a little too far left was more than enough to kill one of Earth's greatest heroes.

He looks out over the city and watches as the sun dips lower in the sky. And even though Clint is right beside him, he is still very much _alone._

Because the sunset is _not_ just a sunrise in reverse. If it was, then he'd have his lover back in his arms.

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

The first thing that registers is the pain. His entire body _aches_. The next thing that tickles at the edge of his awareness is the annoying beeping sound. He tries to open his eyes to determine where it's coming from and immediately slams his eyelids shut again. Tears spring forth unbidden and his eyes sting from the sudden onslaught of bright, white light.

That's when he notices the sterile smell of disinfectants and comprehension washes over him. He's in a hospital. Or Shield Medical. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he takes stock of his surroundings and determines that he is at one of Shield's facilities. The security cameras and military-grade locks on the door are telling.

Natasha is sleeping, curled up in a chair at his bedside. He doesn't intend to wake her but when he tries to shift into a sitting position, sharp pain lances down his side and he let's out a groan. The effect is immediate. Natasha is on her feet, looming over him, hair wild and eyes even wilder.

" 'Tasha…" his voice rasps.

The sound brings her to full awareness. The dangerous look in her eyes simmers down only to be replaced by something much worse. Her body language and facial expression aren't what gives her away. She's as poised as ever. But there's this shadow in her eyes that he hasn't seen since she tried to help Clint deal with the guilt of Coulson's death.

"What happened?"

She steps a little closer and her fingers curl into the bed sheet at his side, scant centimeters from where his hand rests. A sickening sense of dread creeps over him and the heart monitor picks up speed. Natasha glances towards the machine and then haltingly takes his hand in hers.

"What happened?" He repeats, the words little more than a whisper.

Natasha's lips thin into a grim line and she squares her shoulders in that bravely determined way she does when faced with something that would crush a lesser person. "…There was an accident."

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

"Ugh…" he groans out in pain as the black fades from his vision. He takes stock of his body and tallies at least two broken ribs, a badly sprained ankle, and a dislocated shoulder. With his good arm, he pushes himself into a sitting position and a wave of dizziness washes over him. Add a head wound to the list.

He blinks slowly and looks around and _remembers_. The car that had veered into their lane is smashed into the side of the mountain. He twists left and right, searching, but he can't see his bike…or Tony.

"Help…"

Steve looks back toward the car. The driver is slumped over, but the passenger is squirming around. He desperately wants to seek out Tony, but he can't just ignore people in need either.

After struggling to his feet, Steve takes the time to wrench his arm back into its socket with a hiss of pain. He limps over to the car and peers through the smashed window. The driver is unconscious, bleeding profusely from a head wound. The passenger has her legs trapped where the car has crumpled inwards.

"Please help!" She looks at him with wide eyes, panic in her voice.

"I will," Steve promises. "Hold on."

It takes him a minute to pry the driver's side door off the frame. He gently maneuvers the unconscious man out of the car and then places him off to the side of the road where he won't get hit by any possible traffic. As Steve heads back to the car, he notices a spot where the rail-guard is bent over and he has to choke back a sob because he just knows Tony must have been thrown over the side.

He takes a subconscious step towards the edge of the road but another plea for help draws his attention back to the car wreckage. _Please…Tony, please be okay_, he thinks as he turns back towards the trapped woman.

It takes longer to get her out and every minute Steve spends helping her is another minute that Steve doesn't know where Tony is or how injured he may be.

Steve has to brace himself against the driver's seat as he tries to push the crumpled mess of metal off the woman's legs. Pain shoots up his left leg as he strains his sprained ankle but he doesn't have the _time_ to worry about it.

At first, the metal doesn't seem like it's going to budge. But then the woman starts begging and crying and in Steve's mind it morphs into Tony's voice and all he can hear is his lover's desperate pleas for help and he's trying, okay, he's _trying_, but even though he's a super soldier it doesn't seem to matter because the metal Still. Won't. Move.

"Please!"

With a strangled yell, Steve pushes as hard as he can and the metal finally gives. It doesn't move much, but it opens up enough space to get the woman's legs free. His muscles ache and his heart is pounding but he doesn't stop, doesn't rest. He gets her free as quickly as he can and then deposits her next to the driver.

He pats his pockets and barks out a shaken laugh when he pulls his Starkphone out and it isn't even scratched.

"Here," he hands it to the woman. "Speed-dial 02 and tell them there's been an accident." He only waits long enough for the woman to give a shaky nod and then he's running over to the edge of the road.

When he looks over…

"Oh god, _Tony_."

Tony is about fifteen meters down the hill, trapped under the tangled mess that was once Steve's motorcycle. His legs are at angles that are _not_ right and there's a puddle of blood seeping out from under him. _So much blood. Too much blood._ There's a thin tendril of smoke curling up from the destroyed bike and it makes it hard for Steve to see if Tony is conscious.

"Tony!" Steve yells, choked and desperate.

If it wasn't for his heightened senses, Steve thinks he would have missed the pained reply.

" –eve?"

"Yeah, baby, it's me. Just…" Steve throws himself over the railing and starts making his way down the steep incline. "Just hold on!"

" –urts, Steve."

Steve's vision goes blurry and he angrily blinks away the tears because they _aren't_ _helping_. "I know," Steve says brokenly. "I know it does, Tony, but you gotta hold on."

The terrain is rocky and Steve is having a hard time navigating his way down, but he's determined to get to Tony as quickly as he can.

"I don't…" Tony breaks off into a bout of wet coughs. "Don't think I'm-"

"No!" Steve cuts him off heatedly. "Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence. I'm going to get you out, Tony." He pushes himself harder, forces his body to move faster.

He's only eight meters away when Tony speaks again.

"Steve…"

He doesn't want to waste time, but something in Tony's voice has Steve stumbling to a stop. He raises his eyes from the rough ground to meet Tony's gaze. Only, Tony isn't looking at Steve. His gaze is locked on the small flicker of flames inching its way towards the gas tank.

"No," Steve shakes his head in denial and resumes his trek down the hill.

"Steve."

Four meters left.

"Steve."

He has to deviate to the right to avoid a large rock, but he's almost there.

"Steve!"

Steve's head snaps up. Tony's eyes are wide and panicked as they dart from the flame to Steve's face.

There's a brief moment where time seems to freeze and rush by all at once. Tony reaches a hand out towards him and manages "I lov-" before the world violently explodes.

**XxXxXxXxXxX**

"Why are we here again?" Tony whines as he rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Steve unfolds the blanket he packed in his bike's seat compartment and lays it out on top of the grass. "We are here to watch the sunrise," he explains.

"But why?" Tony sways tiredly on his feet, still half-asleep. "Couldn't we have just watched the sunset instead? I have a jet, you know. Or" Tony pauses to let out a huge yawn. "Or my suit. We could have _slept in_ and then hopped over to Malibu and watched the sunset over the Pacific Ocean."

"We could have," Steve sprawls out on the blanket and then tugs Tony down into his lap. "But I want to enjoy the _sunrise_ with you." Because a sunrise is a beginning and Steve wants to begin everyday with Tony in his arms.

"A sunset is a sunrise in reverse," Tony points out moodily and Steve let's out a huff of laughter.

Steve picks up the thermos at his side and then offers it to Tony. "Coffee!" His boyfriend coos lovingly at the thermos and Steve almost feels jealous. Tony takes a sip and lets out a contented moan.

Twenty minutes later, Tony has finished his coffee and the first tinges of color are lightening up the sky. There's a comfortable silence settled over them and Steve tangles his fingers with Tony's.

"Okay," Tony lets out a quiet sigh. "This is kind of awesome." There's a small smile curling his lips up and his face is washed in gold. "I guess I forgive you for waking me up at an ungodly hour."

"How gracious of you," Steve says dryly.

"Hey, no sarcasm. Don't ruin the moment," Tony nudges him in the ribs with an elbow. "That's my job in this relationship."

Steve presses a kiss to Tony's neck and slips his fingers under the edge of the engineer's shirt. "And what if I want to turn this into another kind of moment?"

Tony let's out a warm laugh and tilts his head to the side, offering Steve more skin to work with. "Mmmm, I think I may need some convincing."

In response, Steve nips at Tony's neck before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the stinging spot.

"Okay," Tony moans as he arches his body back into Steve's. "I'm on board."

"Didn't need much convincing," Steve mumbles in amusement, lips still pressed against Tony's neck.

"Naw, you know me, Steve. I'm easy."

Steve curls his arm possessively around Tony's chest and bites another mark into his skin. "But only for me."

"Yeah," Tony exhales, fingers digging into Steve's arm. "Only you."

Steve takes his time exploring Tony's body. It's not like it's their first time – not by a long shot – but the way the golden sunlight caresses Tony's body makes Steve want to commit every detail to memory. He wonders if he'll be able to recreate the almost ethereal image later when he sketches, doubts he will. Tony is just too full of life and energy and motion to capture on paper.

So Steve savors the experience. He loves having Tony in his arms, writhing underneath him, loves reducing Tony's thoughts to nothing more than _yes, more, please._

And when they're done, they still take their time. They're in no rush to leave this world consisting of just the two of them. They dress each other in increments, press kisses to random stretches of skin, laugh, and bask in the warmth of the sun and each other.

But they have to leave sometime, so eventually they hop back onto Steve's bike…


End file.
